Lucinda, the head of the female coven was getting married!
She and Christine had been lovers, passionate. The thing was that Christine was
also the lover of the groom-to-be, Charles. Christine did not know that he was
Lucinda's lover as well, and was completely innocent, other than betraying her
love for Lucinda, just to try making love with a man.

Lucinda found out and was enraged! In the old days, it was
customary for a coven member, who wanted to move to the fifth degree, to
sacrifice one of her children to the Goddess (related to Diana, the Huntress).
Particularly if she were also getting married, which was
rare. Most witches took lovers and merely used them. Men on the island
were mere chattel, virtual slaves. It had been decades since there had been an
involuntary human sacrifice; it was amazing how many men and women volunteered
over the years. In this case, Lucinda, head of the coven demanded
the death by fire of Christine, her betrayer.

The coven council convened and in short order acceded to
Lucinda's demand, as unquestioned leader and the base betrayal being a capital
offense. Christine had no say in the matter. It was decreed that Christine
would be a fitting wedding sacrifice to Lucinda and the Goddess. Christine
was allowed to speak at her sentencing. As a loyal follower of the Goddess and
still in love with Lucinda, she swore her loyalty and said that she was ready
to die for the Goddess and Lucinda, but not out of shame, and begged for the
mercy of the knife on the altar, a beautiful ceremony that she had participated
in as a novice Priestess a number of times.

As Lucinda's lover and novice Priestess,
she handed the ceremonial knife to Lucinda on one occasion, and
always with a volunteer victim. Flowers, incense, the coven members and guests
in pretty dresses, (no males allowed) organ music, the girl's choir,
dressed in their white dresses with demure veils, not unlike a Catholic Mass,
other than it was for a pagan Goddess, and Priestesses with their stunning
sheer strapless red gowns, with the tight corset supporting bare
breasts, the dress completed with their red satin hoods and black eye
masks.

It was a fairly quick though painful death. The victim was
securely bound to the Altar, after being ritually disrobed in front of the
congregation. Both men and women dressed in a ceremonial white dress and veil
much like a bridal gown, decked with fragrant flowers. It had lately been
the custom to dress the men in women's lingerie and clothing, as a sign of full
humiliation and submission to the Goddess, in addition to making them easier to
handle and less likely to run away. This was done for the required one month
preparation of sacrificial victims. the preparation
period was to ensure it was voluntary, as the sacrifice would be unclean
otherwise.

One of the novice Priestesses would hold their heads and
tell them to look only at her, so they didn't see what would happen. The
belly was slit open with a swift cut across the top and one on the
bottom, then a deep slice down the middle, and the skin peeled back like a book
by the razor-sharp knife and as blood poured out onto the Altar's gutters, the
oracles were divined from the entrails, in the ancient Roman tradition. The
victim was gagged lest he or she utter an obscenity. Cruel-looking nipple
piercing clips were used that actually focused the victim's attention away from
the searing pain of the knife. Christine remembered one handsome young
man devastated by lost love, that she wanted to
love, as she comforted him holding his head. It was sad and beautiful. But death by fire? Oh no! That could not be! This was 1958,
not 1858! They dwelt on a lonely island near Scotland
in the North Sea, and were left to
themselves, a sovereign island, a haven for witches and
followers of the old religion.

She wept bitterly as Lucinda again demanded the full
penalty. The council decreed the sentance be upheld
but with a recomendation for mercy, at Lucinda's
pleasure on her wedding day. Christine's advocate assured her that if she
behaved and cooperated, she was sure that she could convince Lucinda to allow
the rententum, strangulation once the fire began to
burn.

The fire was only for the most heinous of crimes, and it had
been over 20 years since one of the coven had been
executed that way. In her case, it had been by slow fire, as she had
murdered one of the other members. It had been filmed, and Christine had
watched it once after comming of age, at 18, as part
of her education. She had been horrified, the piercing shrieks, even through
the gag as the fire took the murderess had been heart-rending. Right in front of this same chapel. It took over an
hour for her to die, writhing in her chains. as the
flames licked at her slowly. She could hardly move in her bonds, her face
veiled like a bride, with a crown of flowers, naked from the waist up, her
nipples pierced with cruel barbs. She fainted a number of times, until the
flames rose high enough to take her torso, she finally
died. It was awful and now the same fate awaited her!

Christine was remanded to custody of the chapel, where she
was chained night and day, allowed to pray to the Goddess at any time,
which she did on her knees most of the time. The chapel was readied for the wedding, flowers filled the old former church, the
statue of the Goddess dressed in new gowns. Christine also heard the
scaffold being built outside the chapel's doors and she shivered in horror. She
was puzzled why Lucinda never came to visit her, and was always sick with worry
over her fate, unable to eat, other than a few bites. Yet as she prayed to
the beautiful Goddess's statue, she felt an almost erotic thrill at the thought
of her dying for the capricious and beautiful Lucinda, whom she still loved
with all her heart, in spite of her sampling love with a man. Would he be there
to witness her sacrifice also? She became wet at the thought of her writhing in
agony as Lucinda watched in pleasure, to make love that evening with her man.
How beautiful, how glorious to die for the pleasure of her lovely Lucinda!

Christine was fitted for her sacrificial gown, a satin
wedding gown. The Priestesses fussed over her fitting her as she stood chained
lest she try to escape, but she stood complacent. The ritual would see her on
her knees in a pre-wedding ceremony, with the beautiful white dress and veil, then she would be ritually disrobed to her slip to lay upon
the altar for the wedding ceremony, as the host or sacrifice, under the sheer
red sacrificial veil. On concluding the wedding ceremony, the guests would be
seated on the stands surrounding the scaffold, she
would be led out to the stake.

Lucinda visted
her the morning of the wedding. She called her a traitor and a bitch and
said that she looked forward to her torture. Christine, devastated at the
hatred Lucinda displayed, swore her undying love for her and her willingness to
die for Lucinda, even by fire, and begged forgiveness. Lucinda sneered at her
and left. Christine was bathed and dressed in her sacrificial gown and
full-length veil, in a state of near shock.

The coven witnessed the sacrificial rite prepratory
to the wedding, with Chrisitine on her knees holding
a large, heavy candle in one hand as penance before the Goddess. The pain in
her back was awful but she held the candle as the Latin service ran to its
conclusion, for almost an hour.

She was disrobed and lay on the Altar as the wedding
ceremony commenced. It was beautiful, full of flowers and perfume, and the
pretty girl's choir filled the chapel with song to the Goddess, Christine under
the sheer red sacirificial veil, unbound, laying
calmly on the altar. As the wedding ceremony concluded, Lucinda was asked if
she had decided on mercy for Christine. No, she said, the bitch deserved to die
for her betrayal! Charles, the only male, looked on in horror, not believing
that this would actually happen, but was quieted by a look from
Lucinda, his new bride. "These are matters outside your hands! Be
silent!" She commanded.

Lucinda bent down to Christine and whispered in
her ear: "I forgive you and still love you, but you must die for me, my
love, for my pleasure, do you love me too?" Chrisitine,
overcome with joy, whispered that yes, she would gladly suffer the torment
to come if only to pleasure you! She felt calmed by the forgiveness. Lucinda
was asked if she would like to insert the barbs, as the aggrieved party.
She smiled and said she would love to. The barbs were kept in a golden box.
They were metal spring clips, with a cruel, large needle that threaded the
clips.

Christine was bound to the altar by the Priestesses.
Lucinda, beautiful in white, diaphanous wedding gown and lovely veil, exposed
each of Christine's breasts and opened the cruel clips, so she could insert the
needle into Christine's erect nipples. She inserted the needle as Christine
gasped in pain, then let the clip close hard, pinching the punctured nipple,
eliciting a shriek of pain from Christine that was horrifiying.
She was panting as the second barb was inserted in the other breast, shrieking
again. Christine was weeping tears of pain. Now, the final barb......her
panties were pulled down, exposing her now-erect clitoris. Lucinda spread the
lips with one hand and pierced the clitoris with the other, and let the clip
close on it. Christine shrieked and screamed in pain. The wedding guests and
congregation were shocked into silence. Christine weeped
hysterical tears, but gradually the sharp pain subsided into a tolerable agony,
and she was un-bound, still weeping.

The Priestesses gravely sat Christine up and helped her
trembling, onto the floor, understanding why she would find it hard to stand,
and were moved almost to tears at her bravery. One final humiliation awaited
her...the leather girdle used for all sacrificial victims, one for males and
one for females. The Priestesses supported her, and they strapped
on the female leather belt, with its thin leather thong with its two
attached protruberances, one for the anus, the other
for her vagina. She shrunk in horror as the belt was placed around her and
the inserts guided deep into her orrifices, which she
had seen done may times on sacrificial victims, They
invariably had an orgasm on the Altar anyway and the belt ensured that there
would be no mess. The thong was tightened, biting deep into her vagina,
spreading the lips, the insert deep inside, giving erotic stimulation, yet
accentuating the pain of the cruel barbed clip on her clitoris. Her hands were
bound behind her back.

Her white veil and crown of flowers was carefuly arranged and she was led slowly to the scaffold
outside, hanging her head, in tears of sharp pain, not wanting to look at the
expectant crowd, gaily dressed in pretty gowns, bright colors, full petticoats
framing lovely legs like the petals of a flower. In front of the gothic chapel,
the girl's choir sang hymns to the Goddess accompanied by the chapel's piano
which had been rolled out for the occaision, right
behind the scaffold.

She walked slowly, trembling, stumbling slighty,
as she refused to look at the scaffold, the Priestesses gently helping her. She
finally looked up, and gasped in horror. The scaffold was six feet high,
and bundled straw and wood was heaped about the base, but very far
below the platform, which was like a grill, with gaps between the narrow
boards. On the platform was a fiery brazier with pokers in the hot coals.
Two masked women stood on it, one in a white
dress and the other in a simple leather teddy and lace-up
high-heeled boots, both wearing black masks. Christine recognized the woman in
the lace dress, and realiized it was her enemy,
Camilla, who had hated her since she was a child...so she would torment her! It
hit her like a blow to the stomach. "No, NO!" she cried, and tried to
pull away, but the two Priestesses gently coaxed her on, comforting her..that it would soon be over.
Camilla smiled at her briefly.

Christine could not find the strength to mount the steep
stairs to the platform and was helped up by the Priestesses, while the two 'executionesses' stood hands on hips, impatiently.
Christine trembled as she was led up the stairs, finally grabbed by Camilla and
the other, who quickly grabbed one arm each, in a tight grip. Camilla held her
while the executioness removed her satin slip,
leaving her naked except for her bra, garter belt, nylons and heels, and
replaced the veil and crown of flowers.

They made her back up against the stake, untied her hands
and they forced her arms behind the stake, to manacles attached to it, so
her wrists crossed behind her, very uncomfortable, forcing her back up against
the cruel wooden stake. Next, a neck brace was clamped around her neck and
tightened to the stake, then her feet were clamped in
manacles that were attached to the sides of the stake. Leather straps
were placed around her waist and just below her breasts and tightened so she
could not move. The executioness in leather, whom
Christine did not know, asked her forgiveness. Christine nodded.

"Will I get a blindfold," she asked through the
fog of her pain, "I...I could not bear them looking at my face, I'm
afraid.......they will see my pain, the agony...I'm embarrassed....." The
pretty executionessappologized
and said no, Lucinda had forbidden it. How humiliating, Christine thought, and
a wave of pleasure broke through and she moaned.

Camilla bent down to remove her heels, and Christine begged
her not to take them off, but Camilla said that the worse the pain, the sooner
it would be over, and removed her shoes anyway, her stocking feet resting
now on a metal bar that went through the stake. They then removed her bra,
revealing the barbed breasts, red and slightly bloody.

Camilla was business-like and grim, not smiling. She was
firm with Christine. "Yes, I still hate you, you miserable bitch,"
she told Christine, "for betraying me for
Lucinda, but I won't hurt you more than necessary." Part of the sentance required torture with
the branding irons. She whispered in her ear: "The branding will
actually help you endure the fire to come.....trust me!" She said tenderly
and allowed herself a slight smile. Christine, her arms aching, the leather
thong biting into her vagina, the barb and cruel clip pinching her clitoris and
the thong's inserts stimulating her, she grew wet again and moaned in pleasure.
How delicious to be tortured by my enemy, for my lovely Lucinda's pleasure,
completely at their mercy. She moaned again, the pain and pleasure consuming
her passion.

Camilla gently placed a leather gag in front of her, and
Christine shook her head, refusing the gag. "Come, Christine, you must
accept the gag, it will be better this way, come on..there's a good girl," as she held
up Christine's veil and placed the gag in her mouth, strapping it around
the stake. She went behind and cinched it tightly, forcing Christine's head
tightly against the little cushion for the head on the stake, lest the victim
try to knock herself out. The gag bit into her mouth.
At that moment she came, a shattering orgasm. Camilla understood, and drew her
fingers lightly over Christine's naked belly and breasts
tenderly. "You know, as soon as Lucinda is with child, Charles will
go to the Altar," she whispered in Christine's ear with an evil smile.
Christine shuddered and tried to cry out but the gag muffled her. She sank into
despair.

"I'm sorry to do this Christine..." as Camilla
said as she took one of the glowing branding irons and quickly placed it
on Christine's right buttock. Christine shrieked in agony as the
flesh bubbled and smoked, at first feeling like ice, then fire. The letter 'L'
was burned into her. Next, the letter 'U' and so on, Christine shrieking
muffled by the gag, her eyes screwed up in unbearable pain, as the name
'Lucinda' was burned first across her buttocks and then her stomach, her bonds
so tight she was unable to move, the smell of burning flesh rose in the air.
The hymns continued. Christine was close to madness.

Charles was horrified, the gaily
dressed crowd appeared to enjoy the horror. He looked on his new bride with a
new understanding, as she sat, riveted, a mysterious smile on her veiled face,
moaning lightly in pleasure. To his utter horror, he felt a strange erotic
pleasure as well. He also felt disgust welling up inside..thinking to himself.. "this
is sick....this can't be happening!!"

Lucinda, stood up and left the dias and moved through the younger girls kneeling
around the scaffold in prayer to the Goddess. She took the burning torch and
set fire to the stacked brush and wood. A crackle of flame arose. Camilla
kissed the almost unconcious Christine, moaning in
pain through her gag, and left, the other executioness
asked Lucinda for her pleasure, the mercy of the retentum
or the slow fire? Lucinda, became wet at the thought and smiled. "The
fire...let the bitch BURN!"

The executioness bowed, and
climbed down the scaffold. The crackle of flames grew stronger, smoke curling
up. The Priestesses chanted the ancient prayers to the Goddess. One of the
women brought up more brush and another stack of wood, and the executioness added them to the fire, which rose in smoky
sparks as the dry brush caught fire. Camilla removed her mask and moved over to
Lucinda's side and affectionately held her hand, then moved to give her a
kiss on the lips. Christine, through her veil and the agony of her
burned flesh, groggily watched Lucinda and Camilla kiss and hold each
other. The music and hymns finally ceased.

The flames began to burn hoitter
and were roasting her. They began to lick at her feet, melting the nylons
agonizingly, as she curled her feet up, but unable to escape the searching
flames, the leg irons holding her firmly down. The fire licked up her legs
sensuously, further melting her nylons, scorching her skin, the fire not unlike
ice. She came again and again in a series of soul-shattering orgasms, her
humiliation complete, betrayed and abandoned, Lucinda and Camilla in
affectionate embrace, her pain giving them pleasure. The flames licked slowly
at her now scorched legs, the melted nylons black, her
skin burning agonizingly. Tears of pain rolled down her cheeks, sweating, the
pain unbearable, her face, partly shlelded by the
pretty white veil, screwed up in agony.

Charles was horrified, and began to shout out to stop
this madness, but Lucinda's bridesmaids held him firmly and told him to be
quiet, or the same thing could happen to him if he interferred
with the sacred ceremony. He felt sick and wished he now had not gotten
involved with Lucinda or Christine. The bridesmaids grinned knowingly,
although he didn't know the score on the island, he was mere chattel now, a
slave to his new bride and would soon climb the altar once Lucinda was
pregnant.

The fire played with her for over half an hour, her muffled
shrieks in hysterical rythym, having one shattering
orgasm after another as the unspeakable pain awakened evryfibre in her tortured body. The flames climbed
higher, singeing her vaginal hair, melting the garter belt and reached her
torso. Many in the crowd were sickened and began to leave in disgust. Christine
fainted, then revived as the cruel flames licked
at her tourtured, burned skin, climbing higher as the
executioness put more brush on the pyre to
hurry it along, feeling disgust at Lucinda's lust for pain. The scaffold planks
themselves were burning. The flames reached her tourtured
breasts and her veil began to melt, her hair catching fire and her
last sight was Lucinda sensuously kissing Camilla with great passion, obviously
having an orgasm and the Priestesses chants rose into the air with the fire.
"How I love you, Lucinda," Christine thought as she came again
and again, the flames blackening her breasts, before she died.............

Christine awoke in a cold sweat. It was a lovely Ontario fall day, the
sun streaming into her window. She had fallen asleep playing with herself
again in the morning, her fantasies becoming more and more lurid, the nightmare
world she had invented more and more real. Someone was knocking at her
apartment door. "Christine! Christine!!! Come on we'll be late for
class!" her friend shouted.

She carefully removed the cruel nipple clips and hurriedly
pulled up her panties and grabbed for her pleated skirt, adjusting her
soft, white kneesocks, breathless.
"I'll be right out......give me a minute!" she strapped the
green plaid pleated skirt on, extra short and straightened her
blond pony tail smooth and perky, her lacy red bra just showed through the
fine white shirt peaking out of her college blazer. Even though she was
over 21 and a senior in college, she still went for the preppy look, rather
than the more grungy look of her classmates. Didn't
she get better grades then? Impress the professors? She grinned in the
mirror....she was starting creative writing class today, and became wet at
the thought of the a series of stories she planned on
writing on the little world she had invented. She dashed out the door and down
the stairs, book bag in tow, and smiled at pretty Camilla and the
love of her life, Lucinda, looking, as always, regal and lovely.